


building castles in the sand

by dictionarysays



Category: SMAP
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dictionarysays/pseuds/dictionarysays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s something ridiculous and sweet about Goro sitting on the beach, shaking sand out of his really inappropriate shoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	building castles in the sand

 

The sun’s low and the surf is coming in when Goro finally makes it over.   
  
He’s kicking up sand and panting—flipping the hair out of his face before settling down on the weathered log beside Kimura whose been stretched out on the sand for twenty minutes now.   
  
“Sorry, I forgot! Well. Okay, it’s not that I for _got_ , but I didn’t realize the time and suddenly it was late,” Kimura smirks behind his smoke.   
  
Goro  _tsks_ down at his patent leather shoes, pulling them off, “I hope you didn’t wait long.”   
  
Goro peers up at the older man, smiling sheepishly. Laughter puffs out of Kimura’s mouth because there’s something ridiculous and sweet about Goro sitting on the beach, shaking sand out of his really inappropriate shoes beside him.   
  
“It’s okay,” Kimura murmurs, blowing a thin stream of smoke.   
  
“You didn’t wait long, right?” Goro’s relieved when Kimura shakes his head no.   
  
Kimura lets himself inhale and exhale for the next few minutes, they don’t speak, they don’t need to; Goro’s too preoccupied fretting over the state of his new shoes anyway—Kimura wants to point out that they’re at the beach and who in their right mind wears leather loafers to the beach but he thinks better of it and grabs sand instead.   
  
The grains slip through the spaces of his fingers, he rubs a few into his thumb, it’s familiar and safe; the exact opposite of everything he wants to say. No, not want, needs to, he doesn’t have any choice in the actual matter and if it were up to him he’d keep it a secret forever.   
  
But that’s not possible.   
  
Neither should be the curve of Goro’s jaw as the sun somehow hits the right side of his face and orange lights up the start of a double chin the younger man’s been sporting for a couple of weeks already.   
  
His gut flips over several times and he nearly bites down on his cigarette.   
  
He doesn’t know how to go about this. On the one hand, Kimura thinks, he could stop being a chicken-shit and just blurt it out before it eats him up from the inside out. On the other hand, he could just keep smoking and chuckling under his breath every time he looks over to find Goro’s face screwed in frustration, mumbling and blowing into his shoe—remaining naive would be nice for a little while longer.   
  
Especially when the breeze from the sea is suddenly picking up pieces of his hair and the shiver that climbs up his spine has nothing to do with the cold. He taps the ash off the end of his cigarette.   
  
Goro reaches and straightens out the back of Kimura’s head, catching the strands of hair that fly up and tucking them back in neatly, “Why am I here?”   
  
He hopes Goro doesn’t read into the way he snuffs out his cigarette into the mound of sand beside his arm and pulls out another smoke.   
  
“Good question,” he lights up and grins over at him, “to amuse me?” Kimura’s glad when Goro laughs and swings a leather shoe at him.   
  
“No, seriously, I’m supposed to be feeding my cats now, so what is it?” He’s smiling when he asks though so Kimura’s not too concerned about the well being of Goro’s cats but his jaw still tenses up around his smoke.   
  
“When are you going to tell me their names?” Kimura retorts, but he’s not being serious—they both know that—but his chest still feels like it’s full to the brim with something like regret and Goro’s eyes turn gentle.   
  
Kimura knows shit’s just hit the fan.   
  
One minute he’s sucking on his third cigarette, the next minute cold hands touch his torso and he has no idea why that means he tosses aside his smoke for Goro’s mouth instead.   
  
It’s completely instinctual—there’s nothing logical about the way he presses him down into the sand, drawing the younger man’s lower lip into his mouth.   
  
Kimura’s heart beats against his chest in rapid succession for four very different reasons: one, Goro slips his hand up the back of Kimura’s shirt in an unprecedented gutsy move and makes strange tiny shapes with his index, two, Kimura’s supposed to be getting over his girlfriend of forever, three, he’s going to be a father in less than a year but more importantly, four, no one knows but him and Goro’s the first one he’s trying to tell.   
  
But he knew he wasn’t going to tell Goro long before he flicked his cigarette over his shoulder and even longer before Goro’s nose was pressing into his cheek.   
  
They shouldn’t be doing this but the taste of Goro’s mouth is always sharp and exciting, his hand moves and cups the younger man’s jaw; tilting it slightly, his skin is still so soft. Goro doesn’t stay still anymore.   
  
Years ago he’d remain unmoving until Kimura had growled and pushed enough that the man worked past his nerves and kissed back.   
  
Kimura hums when Goro’s tongue slides against his, eyes falling shut—the small of his back burns where his hands clutch and Kimura has the feeling that somehow Goro knows he’s being a coward right now and is giving him the benefit of the doubt.   
  
He doesn’t care.   
  
If it means he can pull back and see Goro’s kiss-swollen lips, red and slick, chest rising and falling in time with his soft pants as he cradles the back of Goro’s head with both hands so he doesn’t get too much sand in his hair—then being a wimp for now is okay.   
  
Goro licks his lips slowly. “Kimura... you didn’t have to call me here to do this, y’know.” Kimura can’t hold back the dorky grin that eases its way across his lips. “Your place would’ve worked too,” Goro chuckles, reaches up and pulls at a lock of hair in front of Kimura’s eyes.   
  
Kimura gets up from the smaller man, now. He pulls Goro up with him and the dark look in his eyes is the only hint Goro gets before he’s suddenly being wrenched forward and Kimura’s running to the water.   
  
“No, no, no, no, no,  _stop!_ —”   
  
Goro doesn’t know when Kimura lets go, but Kimura’s wading into the breaking waves and the surf touches Goro’s feet.   
  
Kimura’s laughing loud and diving in once he’s a little further out. Goro almost says be careful but he chuckles under his breath instead.   
  
It hits him he that he doesn’t have a problem watching Kimura’s enthusiasm from a distance; from the damp sand when Kimura surfaces, flinging wet hair back and grinning wider than the sea.   
  
He wants to regret not pulling Goro in with him when he climbs out of the water.

Goro’s crouched on the sand, picking at his feet and looks up when Kimura sits next to him. His shirt and jeans are stuck to his body and his hair drips cold seawater—Kimura notices the way Goro squishes his nose and he leans on the younger man, laughing in falsetto when Goro squirms and shoves him away.   
  
“You’re gonna’ get sick now,” Goro pulls out a jacket from somewhere and drapes it over Kimura’s head.   
  
Goro smiles a little because Kimura shrugs despite pulling the jacket tighter around his shoulders.   
  
He’s picking up his shoes beside the log when Kimura’s beside him again and neither of them know their hearts are pounding.   
  
“Hey,” Kimura wraps cold fingers around Goro’s elbow, “Don’t go,” he breathes as he slowly leans forward, bringing their faces together and Goro’s eyebrows are flying to his hairline because Kimura’s eyes are swimming liquid and his hair is still wet and he knows that this is different from all his other stays.

Their mouths are about two inches away and his tongue feels like heavy sand. He can smell the salt water on Kimura’s skin.   
  
More often than sometimes, Kimura comes over smelling like the sea.   
  
“I won’t,” Goro whispers, his voice soft, face warm and then they’re kissing.   
  
Three days later, they’re in his kitchen so Kimura tells him and Goro stays when Kimura kind of cries (“It’s just the onions”) and he’s still around after two when there’s nothing funny left on TV and Kimura pulls him into bed beside him.

 


End file.
